


Pinot Grigio Girls

by Mileycfan4eva



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:40:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29280093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mileycfan4eva/pseuds/Mileycfan4eva
Summary: Stella and Sylvie share a night of drinking, crying, dancing, and saying c'est la vie as they help each other work through their emotions over the stupid men, their stupid hearts stupidly love.
Relationships: Sylvie Brett & Stella Kidd
Kudos: 2





	Pinot Grigio Girls

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Title: Pinot Grigio Girls

P O V: Sylvie Brett

2021

A/N: The Characters of One Chicago belong to Dick Wolf and Wolf Entertainment; Lyrics to Dirt Road Diary belong to Luke Bryan, but I have taken some libraries with them and redid a few lines to fit into Brett's story more. Reviews encourage me to update, so please review; thank you to anyone who has followed, favored, or left a lovely review.

Dear Dream,

God, I will remember this day forever- I had been avoiding Matt for days ever since the accident. Mainly because I had my suspicions that Matt hadn't just been lucky in getting to me so quickly, part of me hoped and yes, as vain as it sounds prayed that Matt had raced to me, that the thought of me being in peril had somehow overcome Matt's heart running his blood in fear.

I told myself I was crazy even to think such stupid school girl thoughts.

Matt is our captain; it made perfect sense he would be worried about Gianna and me; we're part of his team, nothing more. The job of the captain is to make sure all of his team comes home safe at the end of every shift; Matt's lost too many people in his days, he fears losing anyone, so of course, the entire team raced to us when they heard 61 was in an accident.

I had myself convinced Matt came to me out of loyalty out of duty, not because he was in love with me, I am stupid for even thinking for one mil-la-second that Matthew Casey would ever love me as anything except a friend. I was doing so damn well, too, until Blake Gallo blew up all my rationalization with his account of how Matt jumped out of a moving truck to get to me. Me, not myself and Gianna, but only me. Brett, I have to get to Brett, that's what Gallo recalled Matt saying.

Shattered

Forever smashing my walls of illusions the way glass shatters when hit, not a little slow crack with time to prepare for the inevitable destruction of protection. Nope, in one shot, Gallo destroyed my carefully built castle walls. My mind reacted as if cameras flashed, blinding me so that I couldn't think straight; I couldn't process this recent information. Matt might actually care for me as more than a co-worker, as more than a friend-even. I choked on my pride, on my hidden tears of joy and relief; I felt paralyzed by fear; all I could hear was the sped upbeats of my heart fluttering with hope.

God, Dream hope is a bitch an illusion of promises, wishes, and well-dreams; she leaves you blinded in jaded glitter, unable to see beyond the glare of hope. No one at the table could hear me silently screaming; I felt trapped in a silent movie.

So I ran

I avoided I blocked myself off because there is no way we could ever work, me and Matt or Matt and I however you want to spin it. Brettsey was an impossible illusion. Brettsey, yes, I am that girl who draws our names together in my notebook when I should listen to what announcements Chief has been talking about in the morning meetings. Brett and Casey, Brettsey kind of cute, isn't it? Too bad because I should have known if I got to kiss his hand, there's no doubt it would somehow come back to slap me later.

I would rather live alone with my dreams and hopes to allow myself to go there; I knew if I saw him looked into Matt's eyes, I would crumble. I can't crash; I have spent too much time building my career working to where I am now on my own with no help from any man. If I get into a relationship with a Captain, there's no way anyone will ever think I got to where I am now on my own; of course, the rumors would fly of how I slept my way to the top. Truth and facts never win when gossip flies out of the lips of queens.

Dear, god though it was so hard to avoid him every time I saw him, I could seriously picture his hands on my body, lifting me effortlessly, his palms claiming my butt-checks as his own personal pillows and raising me with those fifteen-inch biceps so damn quickly as if all one-hundred-twenty pounds of my body are light as feathers.

Imagination is a powerful little beast that, when unleashed, she becomes a ravishing monster. Not only could I picture, but I could also smell Matt's scent and feel his hands on my body roaming freely, happily pulling off my sweater, laying kisses across my cold skin.

Imagination as powerful of a beast has nothing compared to memories. These bitches don't let up ever- no matter how much I try to block them out, they come rushing back to me; we can dream of the perfect moment when our kings come to slay us with their biceps and swords. Sweeping us off our feet into a whirlwind of emotions and excitement, but no preparations prepare you for the reality of when fantasies become a reality.

Two weeks, oh dear Lord, it's been two weeks, two fucking miserable weeks since that day Matt kissed me. Two weeks do you know dream that two weeks is fourteen-long-painful-days, three-hundred-thirty-six hours, 20160 minutes and 1209600 seconds—two-weeks since Matt came to my apartment and asked me if I had been avoiding him.

Every instinct inside me told me to lie, to say I hadn't been avoiding him; I was busy with errands and calls. Do not tell him the truth; do not risk getting hurt by someone who so clearly is still in love with his ex-wife. Gabriela Dawson, my best friend, not to mention once again he's my captain mixing work and pleasure is never a good thing; look how well it worked out for Gabby and Matt; It didn't even Stella and Kelly fight all the time now that she's up for the Lieutenant exam.

Why would I open myself up to a world of hurt?

I would die of mortification, no honestly Dream I would die, and it would be like that time in eighth grade when that idiot Jimmy John stole you from my backpack and read you out loud to the entire class. I haven't cried so hard since that day-until two weeks ago.

All it would have taken was a few words. "No, Matt, I haven't been avoiding you." No need to elaborate any further; throw out a girly laugh and get him off-subject. Could I do that, though? No! Of course not sure I could blame it on my country's catholic girl upbringing. I could say I felt Jesus's eyes watching me, reminding me of his commandments of bearing false witness against my neighbors. That would be a lie; however, the only eyes I felt on my body were the ones belonging to Matt.

I can still feel the pounding of my heart even now when I opened the door and saw Matt standing there with his gorgeous ocean baby blue eyes, hands nervously shoved inside his pockets. Those eyes looked right through me, and all I could hear was my heart pounding, my stomach twisting in fear as he talked to me. "Tell me, Sylvie, did I do something wrong?"

The guilt in his voice tore me like a knife; how could he blame himself? He's perfect; I mean, as perfect as any human could get. Guilt is a bitch, and Matt has no reason to feel any guilt; he's been a perfect gentleman to me always. True, he wasn't amicable when we first met six-years-ago, but the entire house dealt with an explosion that cost them their friend.

Matt took the loss hard the second one he lost in two-years. A lot's changed since then, though; Matt's been through so much, so have I. Matt got married, Gabby got pregnant, Gabby had a miscarriage. They almost adopted a son, but Louie's biological father came back into the picture.

Gabby broke Matt's heart and left town, filing for divorce. Matt blamed himself for everything the last two years have brought us together. Matt's become my best friend, the only one who truly knows what it's like to love and lose a woman and a partner as unique as Gabby.

Every-time something significant has happened in my life, bad or good, Matt has been the one I found by my side holding me up, supporting me, guiding me every page-turner that life has thrown at me; whenever I look to my side, Matt is there in the rear-view mirror of my life.

A perfect gentleman, compassionate, understanding, courteous, polite, and respectful, Matt listened, never laughed at my feelings or fears; he treated every emotion with validation and gave me advice, but he never forced it upon me. Matt held me when I felt my heart was breaking or my life was falling apart. He excepted nothing in return, never implied his feelings went above or beyond anything except friendship and mutual respect as a co-worker.

I'm the fool who fell in love. So how could I lie to him, cause him to think malice towards himself? Matt Casey is so sweet; he makes my heart race so fast; he makes me feel how someone with diabetic nephropathy must feel arms and legs went from shaking to numb, my heart raced I became dizzy with feelings and thoughts.

Matt is so fucking sweet he should come with a warning girl, run and run far away, get out while you can before he breaks your heart. If someone appears too good to be true, they probably are. Did I listen, though? Nope, I went and drove headfirst into Matt Casey's lips. I lost myself in his eyes; in his voice, I told the truth. "No, I was avoiding you so I wouldn't end up doing this." Did I stop there? Nope, I kissed Matt deeply.

Lord, Jesus, I am so stupid; why would I ever think Matt Casey would commit to me in a million years? I was brutally honest with Matt telling him I had been feeling this way for so long, but I was too scared to make a move because I feared he was still in love with Gabby and knew he would leave me if she ever came back. Matt never said the words I longed to hear. He danced around the bush, giving me excuses. I wanted Matt to tell me that Gabby was in his past and that he hadn't loved her in a long time, not the way a man loves a woman.

"It's complicated Sylvie," Those were his words, but it's not complicated, not really; love is simple when you gnaw it down to the bare truth; there's a difference between being in love with someone and loving someone. When you are in love with someone, their happiness is number one to you; if Matt were in love with me, he would scale mountain tops to see me smile and reassure me I am and always will be number one. Matt would want to make me his world, every heartbeat that his heart pumps out would be spent on thinking of me, every thought would carry my name on its wings, and only me, no hesitating none would be spent for his ex-wife.

Being in love is an emotional fire no firefighter could put out; it burns brighter than any five-alarm blaze set loses on your heart, spreading to every nerve cell and muscle inside your body. The desires, emotions wants, and needs to please the person who has lit this fire inside of you, their love chases away any dark lingering shadows, Matt would crave my touch the thought of me would lite up his eyes, he would smell me and only me in my absence. Loving me isn't the same as being in love with me loving me lacks the hurricane of emotions I would bring to his world. Loving someone is more like getting comfortable with life; its setting roots so your branches can grow; you know you can leave and come back, and those roots are strong. You're attached to that person forever, but you don't need to think about them when you are away, you can always come home, and there's a comfort in knowing that wherever you go in life, they will always be there, ready and waiting to welcome you home.

Loving someone lacks the passion and infatuation of being in love with someone love is sun-risings, sun-settings occasionally getting sunburns but never being afraid to go back for more. Being in love well, once they have burned you, you get permanent damage to your heart, skin, and everything in between. If you get burned enough, you fear ever going back into that damn sun; you see the beauty in the darkness; the shadows are safer.

Divorce should make the memories of being in love with Gabby fade; they haven't. I should've taken that as a warning and ran as far away from Matt. I should think of every damn country song ever on the radio and made like Cindy Malone said and ran away from him.

I didn't. I ran straight into his arms, only for Matt to make it clear to me I will never be his number one; the silence fills the small space of my room. As I sit here and write in you dream much as it did in my apartment that night after Matt left me sitting alone on my couch shaking as the sobs tore through my chest. Matt made me feel drunk on his touch, cold and empty by his absence, drained of any chance of ever being lovable by any man.

Men either want to change me and make me into someone I am not a housewife, a stay-at-home mom, a country girl whose roots never leave the same town she was born into, the city she'll breed her kids and die in. I needed to spread my wings; I needed to leave Fowlerton, and I found my life and love in Chicago. I never thought that chasing these city lights would mean I would have to put my heart on a shelf and give up on finding someone who would respect me and value me for my faith, independence, and strong will, but maybe I am too city for country guys and to country for these city boys.

What is it about me that screams train tracks? Why can't I ever be someone's forever? Why can't I ever be the girl that sails a boy's boat? How do I always end up being the woman that men use to get over their exes?

I'll never get the damn answers. God, this silence is unbearable. I'm breaking inside; how pathetic am I crying over a guy that was never mine, huh? I bet Jesus is laughing at me now. I sinned and lusted after a man not meant for me now, and I am sinking into my own grave that I made digging my hole.

Two weeks and I can't stop thinking of Matt; his hands were like thunder the way they caressed the cold skin of my back, heating every part of my body even my insides suddenly had an inner glow. Matt's lips were a bridge between our external and internal souls. The feeling of his hands cupping my bottom permanently etched on my checks.

In the fire world, fully involved refers to an engulfed building, flames pouring from the windows. In a relationship with a firefighter, you must be fully involved. Matt and I were never in a relationship, yet it fully involved my heart. He has consumed my every thought, feeling, nerve, cell, and body part. It's a different world than any other world I have ever entered; being in love with Matt makes me feel like I am stuck in the middle of nowhere, yet the flames have found me, engulfed me, and left me charred.

The song of love took my feet made me dance to its beat of life, love, and happiness, gliding me on hope and dreams, but somewhere, the song took a violent turn and left me without a melody.

The lyrics have all died, now I am left without a tune, just the distant memory of what the sweet melody use to sound. I long for the entire song, but it alludes to me I am left alone in a stormy cloud watching from afar as Matt can walk away without a scratch those perfect fifteen-inch biceps flexing as he walks away from the house burning to the ground the one he set a fire.

I should be angry, but all I can be is memorized. Matt shines brighter than the damn sun, even after its rays have burned me. I crave the sight of them; there's nothing sexier than a firefighter flexing and walking away from the explosion. Who needs movie stars or action flicks? I have my very own hero.

Matt's breath lingers on my skin, tingling each tiny hair as his kisses dance across my flesh. The memory is bright as if he was here in the room with me, but he's not. He bowed out gracefully, knowing enough to leave; he knew he could never give me what I need, what I crave, his undivided attention.

I am stuck in neutral the light won't turn green for me to pass this deep dark abyss of red, cherry red on his lips; the taste lingers on my lips. From the Kriek beer, damn you, Matthew Casey, your touch is running up my spine. How could you do this to me? Oh, who am I kidding? I did this to myself; I fell in love with a man who I knew could never give me his entire heart or make me his universe.

It was only a matter of time before reality smashed my fantasies. My heart was a ticking scoreboard counting down the seconds to the last score. Life pulled out and ran over me with the semi-truck. I have no one else to blame except myself. I have to switch the light to green I have to find a way to keep going.

I wish someone would give me a map into the land past broken hearts because right now, I am so lost, so broken and exhausted; I can't find the strength to fight. My heart feels like an open bleeding wound that someone has poured salt over, I am screaming in agony, but no one hears or cares. The rain is pourin' down in never-ending pain. I can't stand the damn rain for a second more; this Ferris wheel of hurt keeps spinning, making me dizzy with the beautiful array of carnival lights. I want off this ride; I am breaking the floor has opened and left me turning into a free-fall.

Matt never sees the pain. Even if I let him, he looks right through me as if I have never spoken. I'm empty, raw and bleeding, broken, falling towards the floor. No one is there to catch me. I am left alone to fall into the memory of how it felt to be loved and desired, even if it was for only a few seconds. Matt Casey is a carnival of lights for that one night; he shone so brightly, so beautiful he blinded my eyes the hurt has faded from his beauty now little day by day. Still, I would walk a thousand miles to call him mine. My memories take over me when I am alone and left to wander down the road of yesterday's.

I try to stop them because I know I will make a million excuses for Matt once I travel down that road. I can make believe all day till the cows come home till the fat lady sings; in my mind, I can, and I do re-write history; each time I feel a spark ignite, I can't allow myself to go there. I can't undo those sparks. Once they are lit, I lose my grip of reality, slipping and falling till the sparks become shooting flames, lighting my heart ablaze; God, Matt is so beautiful I am lost in his illumination. I look for him across the room, hoping to catch his eyes, see his golden boy smile or stare at those arms; my God, they are amazing. Every-time I look at him, I find myself lost in the memory of being in his arms, feeling loved and unafraid even for just those few glorious moments.

I'm done when this happens; the fuse is lit, I'm reacting, and the tigers are pouncing, ready to rip my dreams to shreds. It's reckless to hope because I know Matt will never feel the same towards me, and I don't know if I can survive another storm. Matt's a carnival on a summer's night. He's fun and adventurous. He infects me fast with his love and passion; he makes me feel high on cotton candy and sugary sweet soda. Leaving me dreaming of him and walking hand in hand, along with the Pont Au Change, Matt's touch makes me remember my youthful days when I felt invincible and glorious.

Till summer fades, leaving me with the memory of something that could have been something too beautiful to view, too fragile to last. Now all I have left is the wasteland of what was once my heart. Being in love with Matt is dangerous. His passion is unrequited, living only inside my head; I am alone in my love, reckless because I know if he called, I would run to him time and time again, uncaring for the damage it would surely bring to my heart.

So Dream, what does that say about me? I guess I deserve to be hurt because I go to sleep every night so I can dream about him and only him; he makes the tresses feel fuller, the river gleams a little brighter. The carnival lights shine a few days longer, and those summer nights live on as long as I don't open my eyes because once the night is over and I am awakened; I am met with the reality of living without Matt, as anything more than a friend and a co-worker. I am alone and left cold by the shadows of his arms, which no longer hold me inside of them.

I'm left sitting here alone, a bottle of wine half gone, sitting in my room crying over a man who only wanted one thing—feeling like a stupid freshman nerd lusting after the hot senior quarterback—nursing away my hurt and anger. Self-loathing in pity, watching as the sun sinks over Chicago. I don't know how to move on, but damn, I am trying. I don't want to be just a memory; I want to be Matt's only memory; I want Matt to be the only memory I care about having, ever. Saying Goodbye to these dreams is more challenging than kissing a beautiful sunset goodbye because I know the sun will rise again, even if I am not here to see it tomorrow. Saying goodbye to Matt means kissing away all my dreams, hopes, and part of me feels like this is worse than death.

It sounds so childish, almost as bad as being thirty-two-years old and sitting alone crying over some man who didn't care enough about me to consider how I felt when he kissed me and set me on fire. Reducing me to this teenage-angst state I am currently in, I feel as if I am going to explode. I took you out so I could record these feelings before they overtake me.

You ain't a book lying under my bed.

You are every thought, every feeling I have ever had.

Take a trip into my mind where I will tell you every story

.

Every dream that's ever happened to me.

From my first kiss to my first heartbreak, the first time I held my pom-poms and discovered the power of youth, and cheered for my team.

Ridin' dirt road trucks over those back lanes where we made memories happen.

Running hand in hand with my boyfriend in cotton fields from my daddy with his shot-gun, if you want to know the real me, turn these pages.

It's all recorded right here, every memory, every heartbreak.

Yeah, this is me; this is who I am; just turn the pages.

Discover every dream I have ever had.

I study Stella's face as she finishes reading my diary, tears leaking from my eyes as I curl my knees up to my chest, knowing she must think so many awful things about me at this very moment. Starting with what in the world am I doing being friends with such a hopeless, pathetic, weak-ass bitch like Sylvie Brett.

Putting my diary down, Stella bites her lower lip, speechless. "You don't have to silence your thoughts, Stella, I can take it. I know I am stupid, so what is it about me that screams train tracks? Why can't I ever be someone's forever? Why can't I ever be the girl that sails a boy's boat? How do I always end up being the woman that men use to get over their exes? Am I a slut, Stella?" I whisper the last part, but she hears it regardless of how low my voice is because she whips her head around towards me. "Uh, huh, we ain't doing this. There is nothing wrong with you, Brett, you are a good person; you see the best in people, you dream without limitations; that is an exquisite quality to have."

"So why do I keep getting burned, Stella?" Hot salty tears spring to my eyes as I feel Stella wrap her arms across my shoulders, pulling me close. "Why do I keep falling for guys who I'll never be able to get?"

"Oh, honey, the heart has its reasons that reasons ignore. You are fantastic, Brett, and I know Casey will see it. He just needs a little time. The man is crazy for you; he just has no clue how to say it, sweetie; men are clueless monkeys, without directions you did nothing wrong, baby-girl."

"Come here; we will not waste a minute more feeling sorry for ourselves; we are fabulous flawless and deserve to be treated like the queens we are starting with a little indulgence." Stella reaches into her bag, pulling out a bottle of Ramato Raspberry Pinot Grigio; popping open the bottle, she takes a huge swig and gives it to me. The taste is bitter and sweet to me, mixing with the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, Black Cherry I have already drunk. "You are fabulous, Stella, and I am a joke. No guy will ever take me seriously."

"Not with that attitude, baby-girl."

Cruel, sickening guilt twists inside my stomach. I felt like Casey, and I had merged first as friends, then as best friends, and finally, I have dreamed of for so long as the couple. Casey was the only man I have felt so profoundly, for none of my other relationships ever left me feeling so giddy or excited and scared at the same time. Everything blurred together quickly over the last few months, from fear to hope, from right to wrong.

"Do you want some space, Brett? I know you can't quite process this, and it's hard, scary, and it truly sucks; I don't want to leave you alone, but if it's what you think you need, I'll honor that. I am not leaving you alone tonight, but I will go to the other room."

"You're sweet Stella; I don't even know what I want, though." Reaching for the bottle, I take another big sip of the Pinot; it's still too strong for my taste, but I need to forget how foolish I am, so I keep drinking, hoping that I will drink enough to blackout. The faster I drink it, I feel the dizziness taking over. "It hurts when you feel everything you've worked for, dreamed for slipping away." I nod at Stella's words. "You and Kelly still aren't talking?"

"Unless it's work-related, nope, not a word. I keep asking him to help me train, and he keeps putting me off like an STD."

"Gross, Stella, you are not an STD, maybe a rash that keeps growing back but not an STD."

"Hey!" Stella shoves me laughing. "some friend here. I am trying to help you feel better, and you insult me." "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help it; I think the wine is going to my head."

"You think?"

"I'm trying not to think; I'm trying to forget. Hence the getting wasted." "Do you really think that's going to help?" Stella nuzzles my blond bangs off my forehead; her palms feel warm against my cold cheeks. "I started thinking of Kelly and me as a couple a long time ago, way before he was ready to commit, but now I think I might have rushed things too quickly. Maybe I am the fool. Kelly is who he is, and he won't change."

"No, you aren't Stella, and he has changed. I don't know what is going on, but Kelly loves you, Stella; maybe he just is afraid of people talking."

"So he is ashamed of me?"

"No, Stella, I mean he's a high-ranking officer, you are sleeping with him, people talk Stella, maybe Kelly hears this, and he's afraid of being the reason you get held back. You remember when Gabby had all that trouble with Welch, maybe Kelly is afraid the same thing will happen to you."

"I never thought of that well. If that's the case, I am going to kill him. I don't need protection, all I need is a man to stand beside me, support me and cheer me on because I am a queen, I am fabulous, and I am going to kick that exam's ass!"

"Yeah, you are!" I high-five Stella as she cheers, pumping her fists up high. "Yeah, you will kick ass!"

Tears spring so suddenly I can't even cover my mouth to stop the outpouring of emotions escaping from my lips. Raw animistic sounds claw at my throat; my brain feels as if it is being shredded from the inside. Pain flows out of every pore. "Aw, honey, come here." Stella opens her arms holding me, massaging my back; my violent shaking causes her body to tremble. The thicker flow of tears flows salty and hot, burning my eyes where they come from and staining my checks a dangerously feverish scarlet.

"I can't stop this feeling, Stella; I am trying to move past Casey; I feel as if I am living under a rock. Everything is dark; there's no light. I can't even find the end of the tunnel, and it's crippling Stella. I am so scared. Please help me."

"Oh Brett, I am so sorry you feel so sad; I'm glad I came over then, I won't let you crawl back under that rock, I'm here for you, sweetie let me in, I will help you. I love you, Brett." Stella kisses my cheek, wrapping her arms tighter around my trembling body.

"In the past, when you were in a similar emotional spot, what helped you feel better?"

"I've never felt this way before, Stella, not over a guy. I mean, when my Nana died, I got seriously depressed, but I was thirteen, and I had never known anyone who died before, so it was normal. Why am I so upset over a guy I was never even truly with, anyway? Casey didn't die. We kissed, and I blew it. You must think I am some kind of special stupid."

"Brett, stop insulting yourself; you are beautiful, smart, funny, amazing. Sexy as fuck and the sweetest person I have ever known. Tell me, how did you get through the first few weeks after your Nanna died?"

Stella's gentle hands massage my scalp and upper back, rubbing my shoulders. "My dad and I started taking dance lessons, three times a week; it helped to lose myself in the music and to find something to share with my dad."

"Okay, then dancing, let's go get your cute little butt up, we are dancing." I don't even have a moment to form the two letters N. O. inside my head; never mind, get them out of my mouth before Stella is pulling me up to the floor. Flipping the switch on my stereo so Lady Gaga blasts out of my speakers, turning it way up she grabs my hands and spins me, the mixture of sudden movement, tons of alcohol, and no food don't settle well inside my stomach, but Stella is relentless. She is turning me, clapping, bumping her hip into mine. Singing as she sways her arms snapping her fingers, her eyes lock into mine, challenging me to refuse to dance with her; I've been in enough dance battles to know you do not back off ever, you fight till the end, or it will end you before you begin.

Until a few moments ago, I didn't see myself having the strength to pull myself up to pee tonight. All I wanted was to curl up with my wine and drink myself into a crying induced sleep. "Let the music speak for you, honey, focus on my eyes, follow my moves, and will get through this together."

"Dance is the hidden language of the soul. Fire up your soul, Brett, because we are dancing tonight. No more tears dry those bitches up baby-spice."

"Baby-spice, what the actual fuck? How did I become baby-spice?" Stella grins, spinning, sending her waist-length curls flying. She looks so sensual and striking when she is dancing. We circle each other, and our gaze remains locked. Stella places her right hand on my back, my left -hand lies on her shoulder, and our free hands meet, locking together.

We dance to the music, our feet in perfect sync to the beating of my heart. As the song progresses, I feel relaxed and allow a small smile to form on my lips. Tonight is perfect. Stella has a creamy neon pink crop top, stopping mid-drift, tight black skinny jeans, and five-inch leather ankle boots, making her long-legged structure glide flawlessly across the floor.

Her eyes are hazel as chestnuts roasting on the fire, deep and irresistible. We lock them with mine, smiling as if they are auditioning for the part of an Irish lass. One thing is for sure. I am one damn lucky woman to call this beautiful woman my best friend.

Hours pass as we dance to the beat of each changing song; some are fast and lively, which make us giggle as we keep sipping from the bottle, our checks glowing as we get drunker, stopping to bash each other with pillows over some stupid comment one of us makes. "Thank you, Stella." "Hey, what are friends for if not to get wasted together? We both know neither one of us can handle our liquor; alone, it's stupid to try. So I figured we should get drunk together because best friends never let the other one do anything stupid alone."

"Cheers to being stupid together." We click our glasses, laughing as we swig another round back and dance again. "you matter to me, Sylvie, I love you; never forget that." I smile, feeling my face flush, my hair falling all over the place; looking up, I feel my chest tighten. "I won't after tonight, thank you, Hey." I reach for Stella's hand, swaying as I trip over a pillow and can't recover my balance. Quickly she goes for me but falls over a teddy bear. Screaming, we both end up twisted in a pile on the floor, which quickly turns into a flying fluff war. Stella gets a real mysterious look on her face, a smile of pure evil as she grabs Mr. Fluffy McNuggets, my favorite teddy bear. "Say goodbye to Casey."

"No! Not McNuggets!"

"What? You named him what?" Stella cracks up so hard she doubles over onto her stomach, crushing my teddy. "Hey, free McNuggies! Don't hurt McNuggies!" My fingers work like magical little hornets tackling Stella's belly. My nails are longer than average, and I scratch her tender skin, tickling her; even as she curls tighter, I pounce on her back full force; my shirt lifts, allowing the air to breeze against my stomach, cooling my heated flesh. "No!" Stella screams, trying to kick me off, attempting to crawl away, which results in her rolling to get me off. Steady and strong, I hold on laughing. "not till you give me McNuggets."

My cat, a Grey, black, white tiger, Mrs. Dewy Lovkens, meows, racing out of her favorite spot under the bed as the floor shakes. Stella hates being tickled; she's always found it a pet peeve of her, so I go full force, determined to free my teddy. "I give up! I have to pee, let me go." "No way, just pee in your pants. I will not quit till the bear is mine. I'm peeing already so I can keep going."

"What the hell!" Stella kicks me off with a foot to my stomach, sending me flying. "ouch!" I groan, grabbing my gut, laughing at her face as she throws my bear at me. "You bitch, you didn't pee, did you?"

"No, ouch, I didn't but thank you for the kick directly to the bladder because now I am going to ow." I'm laughing even as I say these words, despite the pain radiating through my stomach and the intense need to pee building as a hot, urgent sensation coiling in the pits of my stomach. I can't stop laughing through the wide-eyed look of horror on Stella's face is hysterical. "you are a unique little elf, Brett, I swear to God, I will."

"Ohh. "The word hisses from my lips as the pillow hisses through the air, slamming softly but with painful force into my face. If you have ever been knocked flat on to your back or had the wind-beaten out of you, then you'll know the feeling of having a giant pillow slammed into you unexpectedly at ten-thirty at night when you are high on life, drunk on wine, and have to pee so badly, you can't think straight. Sounds escape you you never knew were possible to make, I am dazed and unable to move. All I can do is stare up at the ceiling, thinking about how those two little spots on the pristine white walls look so out of place, I have no clue what they are or how long they have been there, but they suddenly make me cry. "They were probably two little bugs just trying to get out of this strange space, till someone crushed their hopes and dreams!"

"What the hell, Brett?"

I point, unable to answer because the tears are flowing so fast they are getting stuck inside my throat. "They were innocent, Stella, someone killed them; why would anyone hurt them?" Lying next to me, Stella stares up at the ceiling; her lower lip quivers; she's laughing at me, I know she is, but I can't stop myself from crying.

"I feel like my heart is still stuck at a stoplight, you know how it feels when you're a teenager, at your high school football game, I was a cheerleader, ya know so like these games were everything to us, we put our blood sweat, tears into these games, they're more than just games, like their our universe. When we lose, we feel the weight of each fan's hopes and dreams crushing our chests. Matt was my QB, and I was supposed to be his head cheerleader; why would he throw me away?"

The tears start again, loud gut wrenching sobs; Stella gathers me in her arms, holding me. "Because men are stupid, Brett."

"Yes, they are! Why do we keep putting ourselves out there so they can crush us?"

"Cause we're hopeless romantics. Now let's get you to the bathroom before you pee yourself, Miss Romance." I lean into Stella's arms, breathing in her deep aroma of cinnamon and peppermint. "Thanks, Stella." I cuddle into her embrace, clutching my teddy. "Your welcome, honey, don't you, dear, pee before we get to the bathroom?"

"I'm so tired, and I want to lie down." "not yet, honey."

Stella struggles to carry me since my legs have lost the ability to stand straight. Stella guides me with easing me overthrown pillows, tangles blankets, discarded bottles, and furniture. My mind is spinning in a million different directions. "It's a damn good thing; I am a firefighter, honey. Okay, here we are. Let me take Mr. Teddy." "NO!" I clutch my teddy, staggering in front of the toilet, looking down at the sparkling white bowl, which seems enormous in my drunken state, and my pants; these sweatpants feel so tight and look so complicated; how do the strings come off again?

"Honey, let go of the bear so you can pee."

"No! You'll throw him." "I promise I won't Brett, I'll keep him safe, sweetie, but you're crossing your legs, so you need to go. I will hold him right here in front of you, but you have to undo your pants. I am not undressing you."

"Promise me you won't get rid of him?" "I promise, honey, but please hurry up and pee cause I have to go so bad, I am about to use the damn tub."

"Gross!"

"Yes, so unless you want a pee bath tomorrow, hurry up bitch."

"Fine, but turn away." "Girl, we have the same body parts, uh! Drunk Brett is not fun." I watch Stella take Mr. McNuggets and hold him to her stomach. I push the pants down, not even bothering with the strings and squat, reliving myself, which feels surprisingly lovely.

"The Bachelorette or the Real Housewives?" Sitting on my couch, ten minutes later Stella flicks through the TV channels. "None, I feel nausea." "girl, you drank two entire bottles of wine fuck yeah, you're going to be sick as hell tomorrow."

"Uh, I am so stupid I regret this."

"C'est la vie, baby."

"I should dye my hair."

"What?"

"I have no luck as a blond; we're supposed to have more fun than anyone else; I'm not having fun in love, I keep striking out. Maybe I should dye my hair red."

"Sure, why not? Let's do it will dye our hair."

"Stella?"

"Yeah, let's do it!" "Yeah!" I high-five her. "I have hair dye here too. Are you serious?" Stella's face hesitates for a second as I grin. "yeah, let's do it; Kelly and Casey will trip over themselves and how stupid they are for letting us get away. Let's embrace a new journey!"

Red Raspberry, this looks bright; oh what the hell? I grin and mix the color in two bowls for us to do each other's hair. Stella turns up the music and cracks open another bottle, which I pass on since the room is spinning and my stomach keeps rising. I follow the directions strictly, after checking to make sure all the product is here. We dance as we wait for the dye to settle, passing the Pinot back and forth. She sips I pour out a little into the sink.

"Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man; but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man."

"To starting over, fuck men! Pour out a little liquor."

"To bad-ass women who don't need men, check!"

"To best friends who kick ass and kiss each other when one is down, check!"

"To no more tears, no more fears!"

"To sisters who never pass another sister when she's down."

"To getting drunk, binge-watching the Bachelorette or the Real Housewives, stuffing our faces."

"To friends who inspire."

"Too cursing and not giving a fuck!"

"Hell Yeah! Raise that bottle!" Stella raises the Pinot, I present the hair dye bottle and click laughing until we cry.

"Going insane, going mad!"

"C'est la vie."

"To loving ourselves, no pension."

"To more than one dimension! OH MY GOD, MY Hair!" I gasp as I see Stella's hair has turned bright orange and fizzed out. "I'm afraid to look at mine." Stella quickly grabs my towel, ripping mine off my mouth falls open when I see my blond hair is now bright pink.

"It will disgust Kelly! Now he'll never touch me!" Stella is freaking out, tears springing to her eyes as she tries to wash her hair out, but the strands fall out. I grab her hands and pull her away from the sink and mirror. "Kelly will love you regardless of what hair color you have or if you are bald because you, my friend, are beautiful on the inside. Let your teardrops fall. I am here to catch them, but know I will kick Kelly's ass if he says anything."

"I love you, Brett." Stella stumbles towards me, kissing my cheek. "To getting drunk!" I grab the bottle and chug it fast. "Here's to a million reasons alcohol saves our lives."

"Brett, no matter how much you drink, nothing can erase this; it'll still be here tomorrow."

"Yeah, and so will beauty salons. Tonight I say C'est la vie, Stella; it's a time to dance and be thankful we have each other."

Stella wraps her arm around my shoulders, smiling. "What would I do without you? You are the sweetest friend Brett, and I don't need a thousand ones; I just need the best one, and I got her."

"I feel the same, Stella." I was spiraling out when this night started, and she was so alive her energy helped calm my inner turmoil. Now I am glad I can do the same for her. Dancing in the middle of the floor, I turn the stereo up as Lady Gaga once again blasts from the speaker; taking Stella's hands, I swing them with mine; Both of us look at each other and sing out, bumping our hips.

Pinot Grigio girls

Pour your heart out

Watch your blues turn gold.

All the Pinot

Pinot Grigio girls

Keep it real cold

'Cause it's a fired-up world

We're two beautiful, funny, smart, and sexy women who have been hurt and used by men, but I know it will be okay when tomorrow comes, sure tonight will suck, hell tomorrow morning will probably be a bitch with these hangovers but will get through it together. We're tough girls on the mend of broken hearts, but the beautiful thing about hearts is no matter how much they ache and bleed, they never break.

Hearts have a fantastic ability to adapt and heal; they find an alternative way to keep pumping blood to keep the body moving. Maybe Casey and I will work out, and perhaps we won't, but as long as I have my sister by my side, I know I will be perfectly fine, eventually.


End file.
